Lost Glory
by Kyrieath
Summary: Realization can come in painful ways; particularly when you realize others may have seen it coming long before you did./Prussia angst and reminiscence, first person point of view; Austria will appear in the second chapter. Not a Romance!
1. Rememberance

Author: Cyhirae

Notes: Okay, I did some pretty silly stuff in "Ivan goes Surfin' USSR"; time to get back to my serious side. And yet for some reason I'm still writing for Hetalia. This is in first person style, using country names. First section is Prussia, then Austria will have his say. No, this is not a romance. This was very loosely inspired by the Kamelot song "Glory".

This should probably be labeled a slight AU since I admittedly toyed with some circumstances and made assumptions on other matters. I have made no attempt to be genuinely historically accurate beyond using some dates.

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine. If it were, Prussia would be in it a lot more often. Rated mature for Prussia's not exactly polite way of talking.

* * *

I used to tell my men, back in the day, that one of the best things about war- aside from fighting and winning them- was resting up afterward and enjoying the afterglow of victory. I am Prussia, after all; I was born solely to fight and I did it damned well. Sure, I lost a few battles here and there- but it wasn't anything I couldn't come back from.

It felt like those days would last forever; that pansy Austria kept saying that it wouldn't, but what did he know? He had been born to fight, just like me- but he forgot that before he was even a real country. He got all artsy and weak; if Hungary hadn't taken up with him, he would have been mowed under ages ago. Grand pianos didn't win wars; Austria hadn't even bothered to fight them anymore. His bosses were hopping more marital beds than a two mark whore; the end result was a house full of cards, a pissed off Switzerland and me periodically reminding them they were the laughing stock of Europe.

These days, I wonder who's laughing now. I stir myself up from my thoughts to grab a beer, letting the taste flow over my tongue. I used to think just sitting around and having a good drink after a few years hard at war was the best thing ever; well, next to fighting and winning them, anyway.

I've lost wars before; that cross dresser Poland and his pet berserker Lithuania were no slouches on the battlefield, even if they did look pretty dumb with those stupid wing banners. Hungary was nothing to turn your back on either. I'd faced them all; won some, lost some- others were really more of a draw because they got distracted by other things than fighting. I always laughed about that. But in the end, they're all still around. I wouldn't say they're going strong, but they're holding steady.

In a world where there wasn't even room left for colonies and new discoveries, where every speck of land looks like it had been mapped, named and claimed…well, holding steady isn't half bad at all. Even Austria had finally picked a spot and settled down with his people.

It's a sick, sick joke that the only one without even a county to call his is me. That first world war was a real mess; but I'd been right there along with Germany, doing what I do best. I just didn't do it good enough. No loss though, eh? I could come back from it, I always did.

Then it was announced- The Kingdom of Prussia would be 'dissolved' or the like. I couldn't believe it; who the hell did they think they were, demanding that as part of that stupid treaty? If it even was; I didn't bother to learn all the details. I'd never needed to know them. Still, after some fighting and grousing; 'Prussia' came back- as a state. I had gone from an empire to a kingdom…to a state. Humiliated? Hell yes I was! Me, a state! Poland was getting a hell of a laugh out of that one. Frilly little bastard certainly didn't hesitate to lay claim to what he liked of _my_ homeland and then dared to say I couldn't even contact my brother without his permission. The 'Polish Corridor' or some garbage.

I really hadn't thought it could get any worse. I hadn't realized just how wrong I was. The beer suddenly tastes sour against my tongue; I set the bottle aside, glowering at it in disappointment. German, of course; everything was German in this region now. But I couldn't hate him for it; none of this was West's fault.

It was all that crazy bastard's fault; that boss of his that got World War II going. I could still remember the day West had come to me, to hell with that 'no contact' bull. I'd been thrilled at first- little brother was finally breaking some rules instead of doing what he was told! The joy didn't last too long, however. He wasn't there to visit.

It's hard to believe, looking back, that the nation that had come to me that day had been my little brother. He had been earnest of course; not so harsh and cold as other countries had been. But even then I hadn't been able to give him the answer he wanted. Maybe I should have. But I hadn't; it had been a war and I couldn't deny that part of me was cheering at the thought; to go out and fight again? I nearly said yes just for that, the hell with what my boss wanted.

The knight in me was hardly dead, however; and that whispered that there was something wrong with what West's boss wanted. I'd fought wars for reasons some would call pretty petty- power, glory, fame, land- all of that had been in the prizes and they were what I fought for; that and just having a hell of a good time out in the battlefield.

Germany's war wasn't for any of that. It had been to murder, plain and simple. People died in the wars I fought, of course…but it had always been a by product. It just happened when you fought; someone got unlucky and died. I hadn't realized it until then, that important difference. I fought just to fight and for the rewards; I didn't fight to kill.

My boss had shared my thoughts on that one. The 'state' of Prussia had refused; but that didn't stop those bastards from simply coming in and taking over. West had apologized profusely of course; it hadn't been what he wanted when he came to me that day. But it was what we got; and for good or bad, my homeland died a second time. If the people hadn't still considered themselves Prussians, I probably would have died with it.

I push the beer away and get up to walk around my room; not my 'house', just my room. I didn't have a house anymore. I hadn't had a proper one since my Kingdom fell. Poland had tried to make me fall into line under his roof; I had made do with a perfectly mundane, shitty apartment instead. Damned if I was going out of reach of my boss. When the state had been taken by the Nazis, I had moved in with West; there wasn't any reason not to then. If I'd known how brief that particular stay was going to be, maybe I would have tried to enjoy it more.

My people hadn't been enjoying themselves, however; so neither had I. Then it was over; the crazy boss of my brother was dead and the Allies were dividing our lands up like pieces of cake.

I shudder and try not to think about that aftermath, but the memories come anyway. Some stupid Brit had gotten it into his head that for some reason, _my_ homeland was the root of the trouble with Germany. It didn't even really exist anymore; and they made damned sure it never would again. 'East Germany' is what they started calling it and me- and then they gave us over to Russia.

The Wall, those long years spent learning just how adept the Nazis hadn't been at crushing the spirit out of people compared to what we endured then; if I had a hard time recognizing West during the war, I could barely recognize my own self at that time. I had been near feral with the hunger and despair of my people; skulking around my own alley ways to avoid being found and drug off by Russia. My people hadn't accepted it, that was the only reason why I think he never quite managed to corner me…but in the end, I suppose even he got a laugh at my expense.

The Iron Curtain came down; West and East Germany became just Germany. Just like that, 'my people' didn't exist anymore. It was a good thing he had been hugging me at the time, embarrassing as it was. It had been like a physical blow to suddenly lose that connection, to realize the truth.

I wasn't a nation. I wasn't a kingdom, a country or even a fricken state. I was nothing; just a left over remnant of a bygone era that was only around because Germany refused to let me go. I was living as part of their history and culture; but I was not them. For the first time in my life, I had no idea what to do.

Safe to say the modern era hasn't fixed it either. I still live with Germany; he won't give me up and much as I'm ashamed to say it, I'm terrified to let go. If I tried to go my own way- would I just disappear? Nations could die; we knew this already from what happened to Rome and our own father, Germania. If I tried to stand on my own, would I be next?

For someone who used to be one of the best damned warrior nations you could ask for, it was humiliating to live on just by clinging to my brother's hand like a child. And this new era wasn't making me feel as if my circumstances would ever change.

Wars were still fought; but they were different now. The glory of the old days was gone; it was all about politics and who had the shinier technology. And of course that was that stupid 'MAD' policy: Mutually Assured Destruction. Just to make sure no one else thought firing off a few nuclear missiles was a good idea after seeing what happened in Japan.

And now I realize what I'm feeling. It isn't bitterness or even hate; it's a kind of despair. I have to wonder if this is how blacksmiths felt as their swords and plate armor were replaced by guns and Kevlar; to realize you were outdated and unnecessary. And I was the only one. Everyone else from the old days, they'd adapted.

I was the only left over who couldn't change. I'd never say it to his face, but Austria was right. Those days hadn't lasted forever; looking back in history, they were just a few notes on Europe's page. I was barely a foot note anymore; hell, they didn't even call my color 'Prussian blue' anymore…because hardly anyone but a few old timers and historians even remembered Prussia existed.

Did I even have a right to still be here? I couldn't fight in these wars now; and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to. Germany had stayed out of them so far, but as tensions began rising in the Middle-East and Asia, I had to wonder how long it would last. Wasn't this how it had always begun? When war came to my brother, was cheering him on going to be the only thing I was good for?

The beer on the table has gotten stale by the time I drop back down in my chair and snatch it up; I drink it anyway. The days when no one dared let even half rotten food and tainted water go to waste weren't that far behind me. They felt more real than those glory days of the Kingdom of Prussia, honestly.

The glass is emptied and set aside; I could get another, better tasting one to wash the foul taste away but it seems pointless. I had to get my act back together before my brother came home; he didn't deserve to see this kind of ingratitude. Neither of us wanted me to die, after all, and he felt damned guilty about the fact I was even in this shape. It wasn't _his_ fault, but he felt guilty anyway.

But why did living have to be so god damned painful and pitiful…?

~_To be continued._


	2. Defeat

Author: Cyhirae

Note: And now for Austria's side of things. Once again, no romance in this and first person point of view is utilized. Looks like this is going to be at least a three parter; next part will be back to Prussia's PoV.

Disclaimer: Once again, Hetalia isn't mine, nor are its characters.

* * *

It was ridiculous, truly. I was quite far from my own house, traveling down a road I had seen more than enough of during my last stay in Germany. Berlin looked quite different from how it had then, however. The strange, near frightening energy that had permeated this place during the reign of the Nazis could barely be imagined in these people.

Their lives were by no means perfect, but the smiles where they appeared were genuine and heart felt. They were working hard to leave the 'recent' past far behind, to greet this new millennium with a renewed sense of purpose that had nothing to do with blame placing or wars.

Really, there was no reason for me to be here, approaching Germany's house. Things had been strained between us on a few levels; not only for what had transpired in the second world war, but in the form of the very thing- the very person -I had decided to come here and see. Truly, I must be developing some sense of masochism in the absence of Hungary…why else would I be here, wondering about the fate of a man who had only sometimes been an ally but had more often been an enemy?

A very loud, brash, obnoxious and entirely too egotistical an enemy at that. The sheer gall of his many attempts at my vital regions had simply been too much to take at times. Did he even have a reason for it? I had asked him once, and the answer had been as infuriating as I had known it should be. He had done it because his 'boss' wished it, of course…but more importantly, he had done it because he wanted to. He was bored without a war to fight.

I did not exist simply to provide him amusement, I had certainly informed him of such. Prussia, however, had certainly thought otherwise. But now, he was hardly my problem. He was no one's problem but Germany's. A living piece of the history these people wandering around me as I walked were trying to erase.

It left a cold feeling to realize that. Some of these people surely had Prussian ancestors, some as recently as grand parents that may yet still live. How would it feel to suddenly have the descendants of my people wanting me to disappear?

Such ponderings were what had brought me now to Germany's door. I ignore the stares the people are leveling my way; I am well aware I am not…quite blending in with them. But there was little enough reason to change my garb; it had sufficed this long, why should it not now? It hardly mattered if I bore little resemblance to the typical visitors to this household. One would think they were immune to near anything after North Italy's surely frequent visits.

My knock on the door goes unanswered; I knew Germany was not home. I had specifically picked this day to be sure he was not. Prussia had ever put up a gallant, never failing image of himself before his younger brother. I would not get any answers to my questions that way. But surely my enemy of old was here now.

I knock again and still no response comes forth. There was not even so much as a shout or even a yell for me to leave. Prussia surely had to be here, however; the business that called his brother away would not have allowed for a hanger-on that had no business with the current 'boss'. I glance around a moment; the crowd had gotten used to me now and simply moved on its way, ignoring my presence upon the steps. I slip my hand up along the decorative façade about the door; there! All these years and Germany hadn't changed where the key was hidden.

A moment later sees me in the foyer, the door clicking shut behind me. The sound of it does evoke a sudden sound down the hall; a clattering of glass and a startled oath floating out of a half opened door.

"West? Are you back already?" I turn toward that call, choosing for the moment not to answer. I walk down the hall as the door opens to let him look out. We both freeze at the sight of one another…though I have to wonder which of us is more surprised. Him seeing me, of all people, in his brother's home uninvited…or me beholding what has become of Prussia.

He had always been pale, of course. The trick of nature that had washed color from him had seen to that. But the shade of his skin now made that seem a healthy glow; he was wan and greyed from head to toe. Even that odd near-white grey mop of hair he had never seemed to bother brushing was hanging limply, as uninterested as the rest of him in looking presentable. The only color to him at all beyond his dulled, near pink eyes was the drunken flush spread in an uneven swath across his face.

His clothing was rumpled; a passing glance had me disinclined to even ponder when it may have last seen washing. And worst of all, I could _smell_ him and that beer he had been guzzling from where I stood.

This was Prussia? The shock had me almost wanting to ask if I had found the right house; did this vagrant perhaps know where Germany had moved? But then a shadow of a familiar smirk is leaping onto his colorless lips as he staggers away from the door, bottle still in hand.

"Well if it isn't Austria! Get lost again? West isn't here- come on, have a drink!" The scent of beer was near overpowering as he stumbled toward me. "Once you're hammered, we'll make like old times, eh? Kick you around and take over…take over…" He paused then, seeming uncertain. Silesia had been a favored target of him; but perhaps even in his current state, he was recalling it no longer existed as it once had?

"I do not think you will be kicking anything but that bottle about in your state, Prussia." Well this certainly had not been what I had expected to find. At least his balance looked to be functioning, if mildly impaired as he swayed toward me. He didn't seem in danger of falling, at least. "Nor will I partake of such a thing. Come, now; shall we have a civil conversa-" That odd, hissing laughter erupts from the drunken nation as he pulls himself up to a halt, then starts to look around with a near comical exaggeration of the gesture.

"Prussia? Prussia? I don't see a Prussia!" That odd cackle rises again as he reverses his course, lurching back into the room he had just left. Sighing, I follow him in- at this rate, the idiot was liable to pass out before I said anything I had come here to say or ask.

As miserable as Prussia himself looked, however, his room was far worse. Perhaps all the more so to realize how recent the condition must be. Did he clean it every time before his brother came home? Or had I simply caught him on an especially bad day? Bottles were everywhere; a glass sat on the table nearby- a passing attempt at drinking properly rather than straight from the bottle like some beggar on a street corner. Well, that was some hopeful sign at least.

I find myself reversing that opinion a bit, however, as he stumbles to the far wall. A map is spread across the wall; one much tattered and stained but current. He stops to stare at it for a long moment, making 'hmm' noises every now and again as he does so.

"That's what I thought- there isn't a Prussia on here anywhere!" He raises the empty bottle in a mock toast to the map, then glares to find it empty. He starts to look around, then locates his new goal- a small cabinet in the corner. The discarded caps about it tell me all I need to know about what resides within.

I quickly pick my way through the mine field of discarded bottles to intercept him on his course, catching his arm to stop him from getting any closer to it. To my shock, he stops, staring at me with a kind of shock before he gives an odd tug against my grip.

A very weak, near infantile tug compared to the kinds of swings and throws he had done against me many times on the battlefield. For a long moment, we simply stare at each other: the once mighty Prussia unable to reclaim his arm from one who placed the classical arts above any art of war.

"…Let go." The laughter, the smirk; they're all gone in that one utterance. He's standing stock still, his free hand coming to rest on my own wrist; he tugs with both that and his captured hand, but neither can so much as budge my own.

I am still a nation; perhaps I am not the largest or strongest, but I still had my people's strength. Prussia…had no one. There was no land, no people…there was no nation to give him the strength to face one of us. It was no wonder at all that Germany was content to let his brother hide away here; he would be such an easy mark for many of his old enemies in this condition. Were I a vengeful sort, I could have easily been among them.

"I will not. You have had quite enough of that swill." It's almost sickening, the amount of ease I have in dragging him away from that cabinet and to the dresser opposite it. I pull few drawers open and begin to search through; there had to be something that was clean and actually decent looking. I was …reasonably sure Germany would not allow his brother's wardrobe to consist of nothing but worn looking jeans, slacks and horrific looking t-shirts.

"The hell are you goin' through my underwear for?!" A few rounds of a peculiar kind of tug of war take place briefly as I attempt to finish gathering up some clean clothing; as I open drawers, Prussia attempts to slam them shut again with his free hand. Eventually, however, a suitable pile of decent clothing is assembled.

"Now then, to the shower with you." I ignore his protests as I drag him out the door and to the bathroom; from there it is a simple enough matter to shove him in, drop the clothing in after him and then hold the door shut so he cannot simply come right back out. "I will not let you open this door until you are as close to a civilized creature as you ever were."

Well that shouldn't be asking too much; Prussia had been many things but I, personally, would have never used 'civilized'. As it stands, I have to hold the door for nearly ten minutes before I hear the shower begin; another five before I can hear him actually going in it after trying the door one last time. It is just as well; I am finding myself needing to rethink what I had come here to do.

I had expected some bitterness and anger certainly; I could not even deny they were rightfully his after what had been done to him. I had not, however, expected this sense of defeat. Prussia had never been one to back down from a battle, even one he was almost sure to lose. I had watched him go down fighting more than once, laughing just as much in the aftermath of his loss as he had in his victories. No one ever defeated him unscathed, after all. And it was all but inevitable by his own declarations that he would be back to fight them again, this time to win.

No one ever defeated Prussia forever; that was the figure I recalled looking to our mutual past. Seeing the current reality, it was sobering. Prussia had at last been cast down, but it had not been by any of us, not directly. His own people had cast him down, after suffering with him through the horrors of the Nazis and the Eastern Block. They had been eager to cast away the title of Prussian, of East German, to simply be German.

The irony was rather painful, in all truth. Hadn't Prussia found Germany under such circumstances? A child lost and abandoned, unaware of the world and fading. The story here was different, however. Prussia was no child to grow and learn this new era as Germany had. He had no people to help him learn.

My thoughts are interrupted when the door to the bathroom swings open; well, things are improving. He at least doesn't smell like beer until he exhales, and the shower must have sobered him up at least somewhat.

"Why're you here, Austria?" He glares at me a long moment; one getting steadily longer as I consider my answer. "Or is ambushing people in their brother's home and forcing them into the shower some twisted hobby you picked up from Hungary?"

It takes everything in me not to wince at mention of that name. He had to have aimed for it deliberately as well; Prussia was many things and dense certainly among them- but tactics had never been an area he fell behind in.

"Of course not! Now that you are decently attired…well, attired- kindly straighten that mop you call your hair so we may go." Yes, go…go where, precisely? I just knew trying to talk here was going to result in nothing but him drinking more of that awful beer. And there were things here I knew were not helping the situation. That Prussian uniform was surely still here somewhere; I could not imagine him ever giving it or his iron cross up.

"Right; go _where, _Specs?" Naturally he wasn't going to make this easy. At least that much about him had not changed in the least. I draw myself up with all the dignity of my people, the items granting me that offensive name in his eyes adjusted as I glare down my nose at him…and proceed to lie with every ounce of my being.

"Germany has noted you seem to create a mess when his back is turned." Well there was a guilty start; I wasn't the only one with some sensitive points it seems. "I volunteered to come by and-" And what? "And see to it that you had other things to occupy your time with than sitting about like a stump waiting for rot to settle in." Dimmed eyes, still more pink than red, narrow at me. He isn't buying it, of course. If Germany had a problem with the things he did- if he even knew about them- there was no doubt he would talk to Prussia about it. They had always been very close; that Prussia still lived when he should have died no less than three times now spoke of that bond's strength. I brace myself for the challenge, mind spinning to craft a story to support the claim…lying had never been my forte, but I could certainly attempt it as needed…

"Alright, fine. Let's see what you can do to 'occupy my time'." He shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants, taking on a rather uncharacteristic slouch as he walks for the door; at least one instruction was somewhat ignored. Well I suppose fingers raked through the hair may still count as 'combed' in some parts of the world.

I start after him, pausing only to lock the door behind us as we depart. Perhaps it was the home of a nation, but it was still a place with valuables. And taking the time to ensure it was suitably locked let me grasp at straws wildly. Somehow coming to simply see how Prussia fared had turned into a genuine outing; and I had absolutely no idea what to even do.

How did I get myself into such things?

~To be continued


	3. Gravestone

Author: Cyhirae

Notes: And on to part three; not sure if there'll be a part four yet; we'll see what happens when I reach the end of this segment, eh? Back to Prussia's PoV~!

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine, not mine at all. *sulk*

* * *

Of all the ways I'd figured on spending today, this wasn't anywhere near on top the list. I hadn't bothered Austria in awhile; it just wasn't as fun as it used to be. Back then, any time I'd dropped by that prissy music room of his for a 'visit', he spent half his time trying to sneak a peek out the window to make sure I didn't have an army coming up close behind.

That had been fun; that and messing with that piano of his. He made some pretty interesting noises if you actually reached in to try to pluck at those strings by hand. It almost put some fight in him until he realized using a sword would rough up those wimpy hands of his.

I eye those hands as we walk, mentally correcting myself. Not so wimpy; I still had an ache in my wrist and some rather surprisingly bright red marks where he'd caught hold of me. Damn, had I really lost that much of myself already? Come to think, I must have. Why else would I be letting _Austria_ lead the way? I stop after a minute and look around; I'm probably lucky he hasn't led us straight into Switzerland's back yard or something.

That would be a great way to end the day- the sun hurting my eyes, my stomach feeling queasy after all the beer followed by the shower Austria of all people forced me into, then shot by our- by my brother's gun-crazed neighbor because four-eyes couldn't tell right from left. I'd never be able to face West again.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Well the offended sniff was proof enough he had a destination in mind…time for a rephrase. "Alright, do you know how to _get_ there?" Ah hah…that's what I thought. Austria pauses finally, looking around a moment. I can already guess that this part of Berlin isn't where he'd intended to go at all; surprise surprise, eh? He corrects his glasses with a huff and starts off again after looking at some street signs.

"O-of course I know where we're going!"

"And I'm England if you know how to get there. I'm going back." I didn't know what Austria wanted and at this point, I didn't think I much cared. West would never ask this idiot to stop by; what happened in his house was none of Austria's concern. I haven't gone even two steps back, though, before Austria's hand is closing on my other wrist; entirely too tightly, honestly.

Great; I was going to have matching reminders that piano playing, wine sipping _Austria_ could drag me around if he really wanted to. This was such a great day.

"No, you are not, Prussia." He adjusts his glasses with his free hand, dragging me back around then abruptly letting go after seeing the wince I couldn't quite keep off my face when that motion included tightening his hold. "Ah…I am sorry; I did not mean…" The words taper off as I just stare at him.

Austria just apologized- to _me_, of all sorts. Something about that just stabbed right into every nerve I had. Sore wrist or not, I snatch out to catch him by the front of that stupid shirt- hadn't he figured out those dumb neck scarves went out of style a century or two ago?- and haul him closer, taking some joy in the sudden flare of shock and apprehension in his eyes.

Now this is how it should be. Not me getting hauled around by him, with nothing but a few bruises on me to show for it. My other hand is drawing back in a fist, ready to fly if he doesn't give an answer I like. "Spill it, Austria! What the hell do you want?" His eyes shift to that readied fist, then back to me. This is where it starts going strange again…because that momentary rightness in the moment just disappeared. He looks more sad than anything. "And don't give me that bullshit that West _asked_ you to come. He takes care of everything on his own and you damned well know it!"

"Yes, he does. Including you." Something about those words has that same feeling as that apology he made only a minute before. I left my fist barrel straight for the nation's face- and fail to connect as he raises a hand, easily catching and stopping my punch. His other hand is coming up, almost gently working to pluck my fingers loose from the fabric of the shirt. "Perhaps far too efficiently for your own health, it seems."

In spite of my attempts to keep a hold on him and free my fist; he remains considerably stronger. This just wasn't right; I had almost felt like myself again when he'd actually looked afraid there for a minute. Now it was passed and he was leading me on again, whether I wanted to go or not. People were staring but I simply didn't care anymore.

"Don't see how it's any of your damned business what West does, four-eyes." The insult fails to elicit even so much as an annoyed look. "Don't you have your own house to look after? What if your boss suddenly needs a piano solo at the March Concert?"

To think I actually missed crashing those stupid, stuck up concerts. It'd always been the best time to invade; he actually fought with some spirit so he could get back in time to perform. He doesn't even so much as twitch at that however. He simply gives me a look over his shoulder, eyebrow arched.

"…Do you even know what month it is, Prussia?" What kind of stupid question was that? He doesn't stop dragging me along, however, as I consider how seriously to answer it. West was off at a meeting so that meant it was….

"It's March." Apparently, that was the wrong answer as Austria paused in his steps, then redoubled his speed. Not that it was much to talk about anyway. I used to march at a faster pace for miles.

"Prussia, it is _October_." I stumble just a bit at that; it couldn't be. Four-eyes must be looking at the wrong calendar. If it were October-

"The hell it is! Oktoberfest-" Now he does stop, hauling me forward with that almost sickening strength. I couldn't have stayed put even if I'd dug my heels in.

"Is taking place even now; however, we have a slightly more important destination today than some beer festival." Proof right there Austrians had forgotten some pretty important things. Since when was beer something to turn your nose up at? "Now then; do keep up."

That stated, he starts on again and turns to a main street. Now I do dig my heels in, for all the good it doesn't do. I know where we're going now. And I know what day it is, not just what month. It was October third; and the Unity Day festivities, such as they were, were in full swing.

_That_ was why West was out right now. He couldn't exactly skip on the official festivities of his people celebrating their reunion as a single nation. And that would be why I had been drinking myself into a stupor- apparently I'd done a pretty damned good job of it too if I'd thought it was _March_.

"Let go, right now." The words come out in the growl I'd hoped they would; I didn't want to give a voice to that quailing feeling inside. Austria doesn't respond, however; he simply keeps dragging me along behind him until one of the famous landmarks of that day looms up before us. The Bradenburg Gate; left standing along with other parts of the wall here and there to signify the border that had cut this land apart for a time.

Austria only pauses for a moment, however, before he turns away and continues to drag me along. When he does finally stop, we're before a line of cobbles set into the pavement at what seems a pretty odd juncture to most people.

They had to do something to fill in the place where the wall had stood.

"You could have stopped them." Austria's sudden words come like the punch I had wanted to throw at him only moments ago. "A word from you to Russia to protest the wall's fall, and you would still be East Germany. They could have stopped it. With you to give the illusion that its destruction was not what the people wanted, he would have convinced them."

The words are strangely cutting for all their softness…did he really think I hadn't known that? Maybe I'm not the brightest crayon in the box when it came to anything other than fighting, but I wasn't all that stupid either. I'd had plenty of time to think about that damned wall and what it's fall would mean the entire time it was standing.

"That wasn't what they wanted and you know it. I sure as hell knew it and still know it." Maybe I couldn't feel them anymore, but their joy had kept me afloat for a time until the countries had officially merged and I had lost any sense of them. I could _still_ feel something of it here in the air. A glance around is all the answer I need for why that is.

This is where I had met West when the wall began to fall. It had been amazing, the sheer amount of joy that had come around a place that had until then always felt like the aftermath of a battlefield. We had both been laughing and crying, finally able to see each other again…even knowing what was going to follow, I thought I could face it easily. I was Prussia, after all. I might lose fights, but I had never truly been defeated.

Not until this day several years ago, now. I had realized defeats came in ways beyond an army overrunning you and claiming your land as theirs. The beer still sitting in my gut makes an abrupt reappearance as Austria steps back in a mix of disgust and surprise; well what had he expected, dragging someone half (mostly) drunk to a place like this?

Who was ever happy to see what should have been their own gravestone sitting in front of them? Or part of it; I probably had the longest damned gravestone in the history of them all. Mark one down for me! It was the only thing they had left to remember me by.

"Prussia…" I didn't want to hear the pity in that voice; but it was there all the same. I couldn't stop retching long enough to tell him to shut up and disappear; why the hell had he brought me out here? Was this his idea of revenge after all the fighting? Maybe he was just enjoying the irony. One of the things I'd fought with him over most fiercely was the unification of our nations as Germania had once held them. Well I'd finally gotten a unification and it had all but killed me.

The irony was damned sick. And as if the humiliation of decorating my own grave marker with soured beer wasn't bad enough, I could feel dampness that I damned sure hoped had come from this on my cheeks. German men didn't cry; and what was I if not German? Austria could call me "Prussia" all he wanted; it hadn't existed for decades now.

I didn't even have a proper damned name anymore….

There are hands coming to rest on my shoulders; a concerned voice that isn't my brother's saying something; what, I can't make out. I didn't care. I want to push the speaker away as my stomach rebels again at being in this place; being reunited with West was a happy memory, but one inevitably twisted by knowing what it had brought.

Prussia was gone. East Germany was gone. I knew it already; I _got_ that! Why the hell was Austria working so hard to point it out again? Did he _want_ me to disappear for good? Was I bad enough back then that he had decided to come here now and get his revenge when he knew I couldn't even fight back?

Nations fought nations. I wasn't one anymore. No army would march if I told them to; West's boss didn't even know I existed. He probably never asked; our bosses had always been pretty funny about that sort of thing. Maybe realizing you were killing a nation, not just defeating its armies when you made it yours, put a spin on it they didn't like.

"I am sorry, Prussia…I did not mean for you to…" To what? As the retching eases, I stay leaned against the ground, just breathing and trying to ignore the stench. His hands are still resting on my shoulders; the pity is all but radiating off him. If I had anything left in my stomach, I'd be getting sick all over again.

Pitied by Austria. All I needed now was for Poland and Lithuania to come pat my head and offer their condolences; maybe Russia would stop by with some wilted cornflowers just for me afterward. Hell, then Hungary come could perform one of her nation's festival dances right on the wall line to celebrate the fact I wasn't a problem for any of them now.

"Get…get the hell away from me." I just wanted to be back in my room right now, drinking myself into thinking it was March, July- any month but this one. Hell, I'd even settle for thinking it was the end of October.

Austria refuses to let go or do as he's told, however. He's kneeling by me instead- hah, petty revenge. He'll never get that stain or stench out of those clothes!- trying to push me back into a sitting position. I almost let him, just so I can demand to know why he brought me out here.

I don't get the chance. There's a sudden shout and someone's catching me from behind as Austria's eyes widen. I'm drug back and out of the nation's hold as the single most satisfying sound of the day suddenly resounds through the area: a fist landing square in the middle of those glasses and sending the priss flying.

Someone must have told West his brother had been kidnapped by the most suspicious looking, out of date dressed freak ever. He's here now, helping me stand and offering his handkerchief to me to wipe the returned beer away. Austria is sprawled out along the cobbled line, glasses sitting off to the side as he holds a hand to his bloodied nose, staring as West urges me to do what I'd wanted from the start: we're leaving this place. Right now.

"You are not helping him, Germany." Austria's voice is oddly muffled; West must have done one hell of a job on his nose. "Keeping him hidden in your home like some national treasure is not going to do him any favors. It simply is not how he is meant to live."

"Leave, Austria." My brother's tone was always serious and stern, even at the absolute strangest times. Now, however, it's cold and flat as he helps me dizzily make my way. Just as long as we're leaving that place behind, that's all I care about. "Do not come uninvited to my house again."

Strange to hear West so sharp; so absolutely seething under the harsh tone. I let myself ponder for a moment how things could have gone if I hadn't been so obviously in need of someone to lean on for the walk back. Maybe a real fight could have started right then and there; maybe I should try to stay so it would. Now that would be like old times, us against Austria….

_West against Austria, actually._ That little voice in the back of my mind pipes up rather suddenly; the same one that had occasionally reminded me back in the day to remember little things like daily prayers and still did, really. _You can't do anything, even if it started, except get in the way._

I slump against my brother in a sudden return of misery as that brief, entertaining thought of war with Austria slips away. It wouldn't even be a fight to enjoy anyway. I hated this age of guns, bombs and planes. You didn't even see the people you were fighting half the time- you were just shooting and killing until someone told you to stop.

That wasn't the right way to fight a war at all. It just wasn't. What was wrong with this world?

West steadies me and we continue walking; he's carefully avoiding every main street he can to avoid the reminders of what today is. Like I could forget _now_. Still, the thoughtfulness is something; soon enough we're back in the house and he's pushing me toward the shower. Two showers to commemorate the day of my 'death'. On the upside, when I come out of this one, there's a better response waiting for me.

A nice, fresh pack of beer by the couch and the TV turned to some stupid monster movie. No battles, no wars, no politics- just giant plastic lizards and people doing stupid things to make sure they got eaten in the grossest way possible.

Great fun. West says nothing as I drop onto the couch and snag the first of the beers; there's an odd look, but then he simply mutters about how he'll be back in the evening. Wurst for dinner, of course; like I'd eat anything else after all the beer. He'd fix it when he got home; enjoy the movie.

It isn't until the door clicks shut that I look at the beer I plucked up; the cap is still on it. I could still taste what I had lost at the wall's remains; I nearly contemplate putting it back until an obviously fake t-rex somehow fails to notice the people running right underneath it to escape.

A movie this dumb _needs_ beer to make it good. The cap comes off and the first pull goes down, taking the foul taste with it. Just me, beer and stupid movies. This was the way to spend this particular day. Not out by the landmarks, among people celebrating or listening to stupid Austria's pity.

'It simply is not how he is meant to live.', was it? What did that damned priss know about me anyway? I shake my head and finish off the bottle in one long gulp; not the way you're supposed to drink beer but damn it all, I wanted that warm oblivion back.

Two bottles later, I'm almost there. Three and I can practically see it on the horizon; or maybe it's just the movie finally ending. I'm reaching for number four when the door opens again; it can't be West. He wouldn't come back this soon.

I decide to hunch down on the couch and ignore it for now; Austria wouldn't be that insane. Maybe it was the cleaners? I wait for a minute, but no one enters the room…I can hear someone in the back of the house, however. It must be West after all; maybe he forgot something. Hanging around Italy could have left some kind of mental scarring like the occasional forgetfulness.

I start to open the fourth bottle when the couch suddenly bounces from someone dropping a packed bag- a fricken heavy looking, way over-packed bag -on it from behind. And then that same someone is plucking the bottle from my hand, cap only half removed.

Austria. He was out of his damned mind.

"What the hell do you think you're-" Damn it, and now he's grabbing for the wrist again and hauling me off the couch as he steps around; he looks ridiculous with his nose bandaged and his glasses off- but that look of pure determination is even stranger to see on _his_ face.

"Come along now; we are leaving. I have packed everything decent you had to wear; it was rather surprising you even had enough of that to fill that bag."

What the…?

"Have you lost your damned mind?!" This was too freaking surreal. Maybe I'd gotten myself into that drunken oblivion after all and was having a really screwed up dream as a result. There was no damned way I was getting hauled out the door by Austria, my wrist in one of his hands and a bag- my bag, apparently- in his other hand.

"Kindly do not argue; it will get you no where as it is." Ever so calm and proper. And the realization is finally settling in. It had to be a dream. I needed to change beer brands or tell West that was a bad batch.

There was no way in hell I was being kidnapped by _Austria_, right out of my- out of West's own home after he _packed_ for me. What the hell kind of kidnapper packs someone's bags?

_An Austrian one, obviously. _The modern era must be breaking one or both of our minds. I'm practically cackling in strange, twisted glee even I don't quite get at that thought. I had to be _way _more drunk than I thought.

There's the creak of a car door, followed by the sensation of someone borderline manhandling me into the back seat as the world does interesting things through the beer haze; I hadn't been particularly sober when West brought me home. Three beers later had done wonders for restoring the damage done to that state by getting sick. Then the bag is being dropped by my feet as Austria drops into the seat beside me, then works to get the seat belt into place.

"Where to, sir?" The driver sounds oh so casual and polite; as if his employer was always dragging random drunk Germans into the back of the car. I really had to wonder what kind of bad habits Hungary had left in her wake.

"Ho-" Austria cuts that word off abruptly, apparently thinking better of the idea of simply returning to his house. "…Switzerland. Yes, Switzerland will do. Please call ahead so they know I am coming. Ah…and please inform them I have a…guest. And some matters to discuss with him…"

First he kidnaps me out of my own- out of West's house, _twice!_ - now we're going to Switzerland? What the hell? I drop my head against the window and close my eyes as the car lurches into motion, making me queasy.

I had better wake up soon. West was going to be so unbelievably pissed if I managed to get myself kidnapped to Switzerland by Austria, of all people.

_~To Be Continued_

Further Note: Well, looks like it'll be a five parter at least...and I had to finally put some humor in there somewhere, or this was going to be _way_ too dark. It's Prussia and Austria- not something about Russia!


	4. Negotiation

Author: Cyhirae

Notes: And on to part four; provided it doesn't run away from me, there should be two or so more parts after this. Now we swap to Austria's PoV again.

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, Hetalia is not mine. Just this strange little story is.

* * *

Switzerland had a very good question for me when I arrived on his doorstep with an unconscious, drunken Prussian being carried on my driver's shoulder and a bit of luggage in hand.

"What the hell are you thinking?!" This once, I may have to confess I had not been thinking very well at all. Or I would have chosen a different place completely. I had forgotten that Switzerland had something of a sibling situation himself; he was far likelier to sympathize with Germany's desire to keep his sibling out of the line of fire.

There was also the simple fact he honestly had no reason to concern himself with Prussia.

"You haven't changed at all; every time you get in over your head, you always run to me or someone else!" I make no attempt to stymie the flow of accusations; I suppose there is some truth in it. But, then, I had never been of much use in a fight. And this situation was not a fight.

Not yet. Now if I had gone straight to my home as I nearly had…well. I hadn't; thank goodness for rethinking that right away. Now if only I had some actual plan for the rest of this.

Switzerland finally stops mid rant to note I had made no attempt at all to stop his rant; instead I have been sitting, having tea with Lichtenstein while Prussia snored away on the couch. Hopefully he would also sleep through the hang over.

"Well? Say something! Why did you even start this and why did you bring your hostage here?!"

"He is _not_ my hostage, Switzerland. You know I don't do such things." What, precisely, we could call Prussia right now was rather up in the air. I suppose I did technically kidnap him but I hadn't made any demands for his return.

If I did, restriction from feeding him any more of that land's vile beverage would most certainly be on the list of terms for his return. He had been even more impossible to talk to than ever before; I certainly hadn't thought that possible. He had babbled from one emotional extreme to the next on the drive here until he had finally passed out. And then he had used my shoulder for a prop and _drooled_. Ugh. It is enough to make me wonder why I even cared.

Of course I had asked myself similar questions whenever he had been on the receiving end of a beating from Hungary or provoked Poland and Lithuania - again - into a fight.

"Well then why did you drag your 'guest' here and get me involved? You know I want nothing to do with anything you're starting!" Yes, a point that had been made abundantly clear many times in the past. Why did it seem all of my past associates wanted so little to do with me now?

"I brought him here for….for…" Switzerland waits, arms crossed as I try to find a solution which will not see me being escorted out at gun point to return home and Prussia simply put back in his brother's spare bedroom. "…A vacation."

"Ah, that's so kind of you, Austria!" Lichtenstein beams at the thought, then jumps as Switzerland's hand slams down on the table. Cups and saucers hop a bit with the force of it, sending drops of tea splashing about on the wood.

"You kidnap Germany's brother after he already warned you off and bring him _here_, against his will, for a _vacation?!_" He is positively seething; and I suppose I cannot blame him. In retrospect, I certainly hadn't thought things through quite as thoroughly as I could have.

There had simply been something painful and cruelly pathetic to watch how instantly overshadowed by Germany he had been in that moment. He had been all but about to disappear into his brother's presence. That was not the arrogant, laughing Teutonic Knight I recalled, my oft enemy and sometimes ally.

"Switzerland, may I speak with you in private for a time?" Something in my tone catches the smaller nation's attention, stilling the waiting rant with a small, sharp frown. He nods after a moment, gesturing for me to follow him into the other room.

"If he does anything to Lichtenstein, it's on your head too." Well, a compromise of shared blame then; hopefully Prussia would continue sleeping peacefully away. Lichtenstein was content enough to play nursemaid to the albino as we exited to the other room and settled at the table there. "Now explain yourself. Don't expect me to buy this bull of a 'vacation'."

"Well in a way it is; you never knew Prussia very well, I know. He is not nearly the-" And the words halt there. I continued to call him "Prussia", but he had already noted it himself that the land he once represented was gone. He was not a nation; how should I refer to him? "…nearly the…person he used to be."

"From everything I heard about his antics- usually from you- that hardly seems a bad thing." Switzerland's arms cross, a frown fixed firmly on his lips as he looks me over a moment. At least I had had time to clean up from the events leading to our arrival. I could not have taken much more of that scent. "So why the change of heart?"

"…Pity perhaps, or maybe a sense of responsibility. Or simply an unwillingness to see something from the past disappear that completely." I was slowly putting my finger on the heart of my own tangled reasons for taking this route. I could never say we had been friends; not as Switzerland and I had once been. "…I think Germany thinks the same, but his methods are…less than productive."

"And you think you know better than his brother what will help him?" The tone is exasperated, much as it had often been when we were younger. He had been right about one thing; I was indeed dropping a problem I had a hand in creating in his lap. It simply wasn't quite what he was thinking.

"His brother was a child when Prussia was at his height, Switzerland. He has taken far more readily to this new era; both in its peace and its wars." And there, at last, was what had struck me as wrong about the whole affair, suddenly unrolling out for me to see. "Germany did not understand why his brother had hesitated to join him in the last world war."

"After what happened in the first one to him, it would be obvious why Prussia wasn't quick to join in." Trust Switzerland to look completely to the economical and political side effects. I can't quite keep down a laugh at that, shaking my head.

"If he was as practical as you? Perhaps it would have been. Prussia never worried about such things, Switzerland. He left those affairs to his human counterparts to figure out. He only ever wanted one thing." Though this realization of hindsight is bringing a worry of its own. "Prussia lives- lived- simply to fight. So why do you think then that he turned his brother away?"

Switzerland frowned thoughtfully at that, musing back over the events of the war. Just another war, in our long running history of them…though his disgust with their inevitable aftershocks had led to his legendary neutrality of a very non-pacifistic variety. Perhaps that was why I had that thought to bring Prussia here after all.

"One of the greatest wars of the century and he held back. Hm.." Well, it's not surprising the answer isn't presenting itself to Switzerland right away. Look at how long it had taken me to come to this realization, and I had known the former Knight far better.

"He did not agree with it. It was not a fight Germany was leading then; it was a slaughter. He fought and he killed; but the killing was never the _purpose_ behind it. Prizes, glory- ah, the braggart always went for the richest territory he could reach. But he was never out to kill for its own sake. Is it strange I find that so remarkably pure in a world like ours now?"

From the look Switzerland is leveling at me, it's a very strange thing. Admittedly, 'pure' was never a word I had thought to ever apply to Prussia before unless we were speaking of 'pure ego', 'pure arrogance' or 'pure idiocy'. Yet looking back now, compared to the wars fought…it was a remarkably pure, even naïve way to look at the world. Fighting for glory and honor- well saying the latter for Prussia may be stretching it- these were forgotten things. He had followed his people's will, as we all must, but we do have a certain leeway in how it manifests.

"Did you hit your head on something?" Switzerland shakes his head, leaning on the table then to glare at me. "So you brought him here out of nostalgia, basically. You're one step from starting a war with Germany over _that_."

"There will be no war, Switzerland." A bitter truth, that, strange as it was to think. "It is not as if I took any territory to bring him here in my care. He is lacks land and people both; why he lives on, I cannot say. There are no Prussians or East Germans in the world any longer. Germany can certainly be personally displeased with me, but there is nothing to involve our people in this little concern."

"Then why _did_ you bring him here?" Back to that again; I shouldn't expect any less from Switzerland. He never was one to let me beat around the bush too long. "If you can't give me a good answer, he's going right back to Germany."

"…Because I think he could find a better purpose here than simply collecting dust and drinking beer in his brother's home." The tangled half thoughts were finally resolving themselves into something coherent. All of the clues of Prussia's behavior in the past centuries, of why he was simply fading and taking with him something that seemed painfully absent in the world now. Switzerland looks unconvinced so I sigh and try to pin down those last stray thoughts…I had to present a coherent argument.

"You are the last genuinely active military power that has a goal I think he could agree with." Well that sounded weak and the expression on Switzerland's face tells me as much. I press on even so, hand raised to still any forthcoming commentary. "You do not start fights as he used to; but if one came to you? We all know you would fight and fiercely, to keep what is yours. You would actually _face_ your enemy."

Switzerland's frown deepens, but more in thought than any immediate rejection. I have his attention; now to push it a bit further perhaps….

"Prussia was famed for his military might and organization; he has had a hard time adapting to the modern way of doing things but I would say it is a matter of ideals clashing than inability. You could certainly do far worse than him for assisting in the training and organizing of your forces and introducing strategies."

"Austria- you brought him here to ask me to give him a _job_?" The tone is absolutely incredulous; I suppose I can hardly blame him. It does sound rather ridiculous, when stated like that. The door on the idea is visibly closing in his mind as I raise my hand to try to recapture his attention.

"Essentially yes- and please consider it. I am certain he could be an asset, even if he is…somewhat difficult to get along with at points." If someone had told me, even so much as ten years ago, I would be trying to get a job for Prussia, I would have recommended them to the nearest insane asylum.

Then again, I would not have believed even a week ago that I would see Prussia on his knees weeping before the remains of the wall. It truly wasn't fair to look back on it; we had all lost something of course. The finger that had once bore a wedding band felt so much heavier for its absence; Germany had endured being picked apart by the victors and then his brother being taken away in the raising of the wall. We had nearly all gained in the years to pass, however, save for one of us.

It felt grossly unfair and cruel that the one of the three of us who had first entered into that war and had done so unwillingly had paid so heavily for it. And he still was; how much longer could he hold on as he was? Particularly when he did not even seem to be fighting it. He was just…waiting. Fading bit by bit as his brother grew stronger.

"Nations fall and when they do, we die." Switzerland's cold words cut through my thoughts suddenly then. "Rome, Germania- it happened to them too. It will happen to all of us eventually." I shiver at those words; there is a truth to them after all. We are not immortal; long lived would be a far better term. Long lived and able to survive so long as our people did.

"Then why does he live, Switzerland? There must be a reason- this slow death is not how we die." The blond scowls at me in response to that hole in his logic; but it is true as well. We died when we fought another nation and lost; we died at their hands and they took our lands and people. Rome and Germania had died the same way. "If he can be saved, and to have lived this long after his dissolution makes me think he can be, there must be a reason."

"…Fine, I will talk to him when he wakes up." Any iota of relief that may have started to emerge is dropped into confusion as he takes a pen and some paper from the table's drawers and sets them on the table between us. "But in the meantime, you have some business to take care of."

"Such as..?" The papers are not blank; they're a contract of some kind. He had these sorts of things already written up and ready for use? He's going over them quickly, filling in some points before turning the pages over to me. "Ah- what precisely is _this_?"

"Terms of our agreement, of course. For a fee, I will lodge your 'guest' until we decide what we're going to do with him and Germany's response has been settled. I expect this may damage our relations at least temporarily so you will have to compensate for the potential loss." Heavens above, I should have seen this coming. I look the papers over a moment, eyes widening at some of the points listed. Oh this absolutely would not do….

"I will need a telephone, if you will. I will have to discuss these terms with the Federal President…" And think of a very good explanation for why these negotiations were even taking place. Trust Switzerland to turn an entirely personal situation into a chance to draw some profit in for his people.

I am in the midst of the negotiations and pondering just how much my apparent sentimentality is worth in trying to spare an old enemy and ally from his fate when the door at the far end of the room opens up. Lichtenstein peers in, a shy little smile in place.

"Um…Austria? Your friend has woken up…I think he is a little angry for some reason…"

Well; that certainly wasn't going to help the situation now. I push the papers aside and inform the president I will have a more in depth report on matters in an hour or two and set the phone down on the receiver as the door pushes open a bit wider…

I must remember in the future that Lichtenstein has a rather frightening gift for understatement. The last time I had seen such an expression on Prussia's face had been after Hungary had joined in alliance with me.

"Start talking, specs." Oh, this wasn't going to go well…. "Start talking _real_ fast."

_~To be continued_


	5. Finalization

Author: Cyhirae

Notes: Back to Prussia's PoV; and a short step back in time before he wakes up. Thank you, Indi-Scarga, for actually inspiring some of this by wanting to know what Austria was saying in 'Gravestone'. The words appear in the first part of this sequence.

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not, never has been and sadly never will be mine.

* * *

I was standing before that damned wall; the thing that was imprisoning me and keeping me alive all at once. It was looming higher than ever; I could hear West just beyond it, calling out to me. I knew it couldn't be happening; by an agreement we had somehow come to without even seeing one another, we had agreed to never approach the wall.

Knowing the other was there and not being able to see each other had been painful enough. To get that close and still not even be able to speak would have been too much.

Behind me, I could hear the dogs of the patrol barking; another one of my people were trying to escape this little piece of hell. I shouldn't be inwardly cheering them on; every person that left weakened me a little more. I wasn't even a proper country anymore; I was less than I had been as the State of Prussia. East Germany was just a speck; one that had rapidly dwindled until the wall was built.

I hated this damned wall. But I needed it too. If everyone ran…what would happen to me? All I can do is think about when I first met West; he had been dying, but not…properly. Not the way we're supposed to die. He had just been abandoned; his boss had ditched him and his people bailed to become part of other countries.

I didn't want to see one of us die that way. I didn't want to _be_ one who died that way. So a cage it was, even though I knew it was a temporary measure.

The barking of the dogs grows closer; and then there's a sudden thrill of chilling realization. It's not one of my people that they're chasing; it's me. The uniforms on the patrol aren't those of the East German militia; they're Russian.

Russia himself is there, and the 'dogs' are those damnably huge wolves they have in that snowy hell they call a country. Part of me is screaming that there's no way this is real; it's a dream. I know it is…but I'm running all the same.

I'm in my own 'land' and I still have to run. I can hear the psycho's happy laughter at sighting me; those wolves bay merrily in turn and start after me with more gusto than ever. The wall is on both sides of me now, however. I can't turn left or right, only keep running straight as the wolves close in.

This is stupid and hopeless; I'm Prussia, damn it all! Why was I running from a dogs and some baby faced giant? My legs won't listen to that proclamation, however. Just like every one of my people to attempt this and who had been noticed, I can only run. They never knew Prussia, not really…only what they'd heard in stories from their grand parents or the like. The pride they should have had, it was gone.

And its lack became a set of shackles, slowing me down as I feel wolves starting to snap at my heels. I'm not going to get away; one lunge and they'd have me down and start tearing into me until that bastard told them to stop. I was at their mercy; me! Of all the nations, why was it me?

An opening suddenly appears in the wall; a gate leading into West's country? I dive for it with all my might, feeling teeth burning in a grazing bite along my leg as I go. Someone is in the gate, reaching out to pull me into it and away from the wolves.

West? ..No, it's _Austria_, of all the useless idiots to run into. I start to try to push him through the gate ahead of me; we're both going to get killed if we stay here. The hand he offered to pull me in has an impossibly powerful grip, however; his other hand is knocking the wolves I'd fled from away with a ridiculous ease.

_He's still a nation._ That traitorous little voice is speaking up, pointing out the obvious. _You aren't. A few forest animals aren't going to trouble something like him._

"Prussia…" The hands transfer to my shoulders after the last of the wolves has been knocked away. "Prussia! What…how has this happened? What became of the Knight you used to be?" I struggle in the hold a moment, raising my hands to try to pry his loose. Instead, I wind up stopping to stare at them.

I'd seen this particular sight every day for a few decades, but this revisit to it after being passingly healthy is more than unwelcome: It's terrifying. Bruises, scrapes and sores cover skin that clings to near skeletal fingers; thin and worn from too much work and too little food.

My people suffered, and I suffered with them. I could feel their illnesses in my lungs, their starvation clawing at my gut as Austria holds me in place, guilt and sorrow etched deeper than I had ever seen them run before. More unwelcome is the pity behind it all…

"I do not recognize this…how could you have…I am sorry….I am so sorry…"

"Get away from me!" I shove him back with all of my might as that repeated apology continues, wasted hands flailing…

"Eek! I'm sorry!"

And just like that, reality comes crashing back in the form of a sudden dampness on my face that is distinctly tea scented and a voice far too high to be even that prissy bastard's. I wince at the stabbing of the light into my eyes, then look around slowly, confused.

Where the hell was I? Let's review…I had been watching a random stupid dinosaur movie, drinking a beer and then…Austria, a bag and a long, uncomfortable ride in that rattle trap he called a car. A ride to Switzerland.

More pieces fall into place as I sit up slowly, looking around at the room I was in. It wasn't very large or heavily furnished; it felt more like it was comfortably lived in. And off to the left was the source of that final apology; a smallish woman- girl, really- with a ribbon in her short hair, hands tangled up in her dress.

"I'm so sorry!" She blurts that out again, hand rising up from her skirts to display an empty tea cup. "I- I was checking you and all of a sudden you started waving your hands and bumped my cup so- oh I'm so sorry!"

Bumped the cup? I reach up slowly to brush at my face; definitely tea. Then I jerk my hand back to stare- but no, it isn't the wasted appendage it had been in the dream. It hadn't been so for a few years now, since West had taken me into his house. It was still weak; maybe it always would be….

It wasn't that disease ridden death's hand it had been though. And Austria was nowhere in sight. I look back to the girl; she's gone silent since her last apology; waiting for a response, probably. I wrack my brain for a moment; if four-eyes really _had_ taken me to Switzerland, then this had to be….

"Lichtenstein?" Some of the girl's nervousness dissipates at the name; instead she's beaming and dropping into a light curtsey by way of greeting.

"Yes, I am Lichtenstein." Her voice is much like the rest of her, now that she isn't panicking. Small and adorable. "Mm...and you're Prussia, right? That's what Austria said-" Oh she just had to bring him up and ruin the mood I'd started working myself towards. Some of that must have shown on my face as her smile turned more into a slightly nervous quirk of the lips.

"Where'd that four-eyed lunatic go?" I had a pounding headache, West was probably in a panic, and it was all the fault of Austria not being able to mind his own business. "This is Switzerland, right?"

"Um…yes, it is…He's in the other room with my brother. Would you like some tea while they talk? I'm very sorry about spilling it on you…" She goes toward the pot, but I'm already climbing to my feet, swaying though I am. None of this was doing wonders for my hang over, but I was not going to let Austria just slip away and leave me stranded in damned Switzerland's house.

"I just need to get a hold of that bastard…" And shake him until his teeth rattled. What the hell was he thinking, dragging me all the way out here? "Ah, let me announce you first. My brother takes surprises badly sometimes…" She sounds oh so sheepish about it; as if her brother potentially shooting someone fatally for surprising him was such an embarrassing thing. She scurries over to the door while I'm still sorting out which foot should move first to send me in the right direction.

The door is open as I finally rediscover how to walk, despite a swaying floor; I pull it open a bit further to level a glare at one of the men within.

"Start talking, specs." I growl fit to do those dream wolves proud as I try to push past Lichtenstein. "Start talking _real_ fast." My advance is rather quickly checked by two things, however: Switzerland pulling a gun from an open drawer and Lichtenstein catching my arm before I can get any closer.

"You had best recall whose house you're in, Prussia!" That barked almost-threat is certainly one to take seriously as I hear that gun cock; damn I hate those things. "Sit down; we have something to discuss while Austria finishes his business."

A phone is shoved back under Austria's hand, which in turn sends a small stack of papers shifting a bit as the priss scrambles to gather then back up. He gives the phone an unhappy look, then gathers it and the papers up to move to the other side of the room, making sure to keep the papers tucked against him. There wouldn't be any peeking to see what that was all about.

"Alright, Swiss not-Miss; what the hell's going on? What are you and Austria up to?" Really this was the last guy I figured would be working along with Austria on anything involving another nation in any way. Most of my recent memory of their actions had been supplying gold to the Nazis; for a nice return percentage of course.

Switzerland looks as unamused as ever does as I drag a chair out and drop into it, eyes on him and that gun. Lichtenstein is promptly settling herself down on the other side of him, beaming; well that direction just got easier to look in at least.

"I know about your history as a mercenary; frankly I don't need mercenaries but Austria seems to think you're in need of work." Austria thought _what?_ I turn to level a glare at four-eyes; he's sweating slightly and occasionally taking his glasses off as he murmurs into the phone to wipe away sweat. He must have gotten himself into some really hot water somehow. "So are you? And if you are; what makes you worth hiring?"

The casual scorn is what gets my attention back on the short, scowling blond. I suppose the grin probably looks more like a baring of teeth as Lichtenstein scoots her chair back a bit in response. _Worth hiring_? This little blond punk who was hardly ever doing more than sitting up on these rocks saying 'not my problem!' wanted to know if I was worth hiring?

"I've been around longer and seen more than you have up on this pile of rocks you call a nation." Eh, I know the Swiss had been mercenaries themselves at points; maybe that's where the whole their whole 'neutral' attitude came from. Always out to make a profit; even if it meant working with both sides. At least I'd stuck to one on a given basis. Usually. "Trained more than your country ever did too, I'll wager."

It was a long time ago, back before guns had become so easy to use; but it's a pretty strong claim all the same I'd say. The blond looks unimpressed, but his sister is peering around him again with a certain curiosity.

"Is it true you helped in the Revolutionary war..?" Now what did I know about this nation? Not much to be honest, which meant she was pretty young or just didn't get around a lot.

"Well you're going to have to be more specific." At her blink, I cross my arms and kick back in the chair; now we're on to a subject I could gladly get into. "I've been in a _few_, you know." Won some, lost some; but those had been the way to live back then.

Not these so called wars where no one even saw the people they were killing or destroyed things that were worth claiming all because they didn't know how to do anything except throw grenades, bombs and bullets. And they called _my_ efforts primitive these days?

Switzerland doesn't look any more impressed as the conversation starts to expand from there; his sister wants to hear about everywhere I'd been and what I'd done there (fight, of course. But she was looking way too enthralled to point that out and cut it short). After a time, he'd apparently heard enough and walked away from the table to go bother Austria some more.

Good, he needed to be bothered after dragging me all the way out here. For a job interview I didn't even want! But I can't deny it feels pretty good to be reminiscing a little over the way things used to be; I had my hand in a lot of pies back then; taught West everything I knew, though he was usually too busy reading about the Roman Empire to take note of how absolutely kick ass _I_ am. The kids speak for themselves; North Italy's plenty cute but about as smart as those tomatoes South Italy spends all day growing. West kept winding up holding at least the one's hand through everything; how impressive could the grand father have really been?

Now us? Well damn, they were so scared of me they had to yank my land out from under me to make themselves feel better and then chewed their nails to pieces when we decided we wanted to get back together. I hope they're still tossing and turning at night; France might have been an alright sort of guy when I wasn't kicking him across a field, but I don't think I could ever forgive him for wanting that wall to stay up.

England was always a bastard at random, so that wasn't anything to get worked up over. He didn't even try to claim to be a friend to anyone.

The sun is sinking steadily into the west, making the room slowly grow darker before Switzerland comes back to the table, opens another drawer and drops some paperwork in front of me. A few sheets of it, actually.

"And what's this shit?" Lichtenstein blushes a bit; as if she hasn't heard me saying worse in these little war stories. Switzerland for his part just looks annoyed as he points to the papers.

"Your employment contract. You can read through and-" I flip through the stack, not paying much mind to what's printed on them. Words, words, more words- ah, there's a signature line. "Hey, aren't you even going to read it?!"

"Do I get to teach people to fight? Can I have beer when I'm not? Can I go see West when I want?" He's looking baffled as all hell as he nods to each point; then I'm scribbling my name down on the contract. "Then there you are. So when do I start teaching 'em already?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I'm certain I saw Austria ducking his head down in a smile before he starts making what I assume are intended to be soothing noises into the phone. Apparently without much success if the way he flinches back from the receiver; serves him right. West was probably having a heart attack thanks to that guy-

Oh shit! West!

"Hey, four-eyes! Hurry up with that phone already! I gotta make a call!"

_~To be continued_


	6. Aftermath Austria

Author: Cyhirae

Notes: This chapter will be fairly short; if it wasn't for the fact this story is in first person, this would have been joined with the following chapter. However, as this is Austria's PoV and the other chapter is Prussia's, separated they had to be. Time skip here; move the clock forward almost a full year.

Disclaimer: Hetalia is still not mine and never shall be.

* * *

I had no thought you could 'ground' a nation, but grounded I indeed was for the time being after the fiasco with Switzerland and Germany a year ago. I came to a bit of a sad conclusion on that day: while our 'bosses', as Prussia and some of the others insisted on calling them, might be aware of us…our fates were not so much their concern so long as it was not their own that was imperiled.

It had been a rather unpleasant experience to be dressed down by the Federal President for worrying about a 'dead nation' and incurring further debt with Switzerland for the sake of a guilty conscience. In the face of that, I had to agree with some of Prussia's sentiments, not that I would ever give him the satisfaction of knowing I thought he was right on anything. I would never hear the end of it!

But wars…the world itself had truly had become a cold, impersonal thing, hadn't it? My hands still on the keys as I recall how it used to be; our kings meeting on the field as much as at the negotiation table, fighting and dying with the rest rather than being in danger more from an assassin's bullet than the actual enemy. I feel almost sorry for the younger nations, abruptly. This was the kind of world they had been growing into; was it no wonder they had so little respect and understanding for the way we older nations did things now?

Thinking on that has me sighing, fingers picking out a little, directionless tune. Pondering that had me rather glad I had worked to save even one small, braggart-incarnated part of that time. I didn't want to think of what this world would be like if it one day became inhabited only by nations like those in the Americas or the younger European countries.

I would just have to hope he maybe learned a few things from them along the way as well; like how to do something _other_ than fight. Perhaps they could persuade him to take up reading at very least. Or perhaps computers….

Oh heavens _no_. Not computers. He would go from invading territories to taking over their data banks. I would not put it past Prussia at all to develop some intelligence for learning to work those strange devices purely for the sake of causing trouble all over again.

"Perhaps I ought to call Switzerland-" That thought dies as soon as its voiced; something just moved past my window. A very familiar, plumed something I hadn't seen in years. "Oh, no- what have you- _Prussia_!"

I fling open the window and lean out; I had to catch him before he began any kind of mischief. My 'boss' was quite on edge after the matter with Switzerland and Germany; if someone stirred the pot now….

"Hehehe! Hello Austria~!" Well that certainly _wasn't_ Prussia. I stop and stare as that familiar hat pokes up out of the bushes again- then Lichtenstein is popping up out of the bushes with another giggle, hands clutching the hat onto her head. "He said you'd make a funny face if you saw this hat!"

I can feel my glasses starting to slide as I stare at the giggling nation, her head half disappearing under that plumed hat as it slips free of one of her hands.

"O-oh, Lichtenstein- ah…I did not realize you were visiting…" Oh please don't say Prussia was starting to get her involved in his antics; that might be the one thing that could convince Switzerland to go to war. On me, specifically, for bringing the former nation into his abode.

"I was just coming to give you this; Prussia couldn't bring it himself since he's with my brother right now." She's holding out a letter to me then, in a scroll case of all things. And he called _me_ old fashioned.

"Oh, I see…thank you. That was most kind of you." I take the case and slide the scroll out, grimacing a bit at the mess the wax makes. Modern envelopes had certainly been a vast improvement. I unfurl the scroll and glance over the words; then read over them a second time, pushing my glasses up to make sure I am seeing these right.

_Hey, Austria!_

_Since you don't have any land worth taking, I've decided turn about is fair play. Watch your back; you never know when I'll show up since that stingy boss of yours isn't forwarding calls. I bet you told him to block any I made for you, didn't you, four-eyes?_

_Like that's going to do you any good; didn't you figure it out already that hiding never helped? See you when I see you (probably before you see me)._

_-Prussia_

"He cannot be serious. Lichtenstein, could you please… Hm? …Lichtenstein?" I look up from the scroll; I'm standing at my window, alone, missive in hand and no little blond nation in sight. Wonderful, he was involving her in his antics after all. I can feel an aggravated sigh wanting to emerge as I carefully roll the 'letter'- perhaps it would be more appropriate to dub it a 'declaration of impending kidnapping' -and set it back within its case to place on the mantle.

I can feel a familiar headache coming on; the same kind I always got after one of his 'helpful' messages that he was going to be invading. Now I was going to have to keep looking over my shoulder to be sure he wasn't creeping up on me with that smug, idiotic smirk of his wherever I went.

I return to the piano bench then, eyeing that little missive. So when would he try it? He was never so polite as to try to invade the day after the missive; it simply wouldn't be any fun to get it over with that quickly. I start to play, going over past experiences with his antics…it could be anywhere from a week to a month. What is today? Ah, of course; October 2nd. I should have realized this was an 'anniversary' threat.

I look back to the keys, aggravation giving the song I coax forth more power than its had since I had played after seeing him a year ago; then I blink as my fingers falter on seeing a bit of my reflection in the piano's near mirror like finish.

If I was so annoyed and verging on a migraine the likes of which I hadn't had for decades; why on earth am I _smiling_? This era truly was driving me mad.

_~To Be Concluded!_


	7. Aftermath Prussia

Author: Cyhirae

Notes: And now the conclusion to this strange little story; once again we are in Prussia's side of the 'epilogue' as it were. For the record, I am aware Oktoberfest is usually over by October 3rd, but there are occasions where it lasts that long due to a Sunday falling on the 2nd of October.

Disclaimer: Hetalia is still not mine and never shall be.

* * *

Things had changed in a pretty big way since Austria had decided to invite himself into my personal life. I almost felt bad about the broken nose West had given him and the shiner I followed it up with when I had woken up in Switzerland's house.

Almost. He'd been asking for it, butting in like that. I still didn't get why he'd even done it, to be honest. But when it's just me, my room and the guy upstairs, well…then it was fine to admit I was grateful. Not that four-eyes would ever hear it from _me_.

It still isn't really home; not when I'm with West or when I'm 'guesting' here with Switzerland. But at least I'd found something more engaging to do than just finding the bottom of each beer bottle I came across.

Switzerland's troops were pretty damned impressive; I had to give them that. And by 'troops', I mean nearly every man and woman in the country. It's no wonder at all that no nation was willing to pick a fight with them. They'd probably blitzkrieg anyone who tried into oblivion.

After watching how West had been struggling to rebuild everything he'd lost; from industry to military strength, I couldn't deny it felt good to be part of something actually militant again. West had to move carefully or Europe would jump the gun; I don't think he forgot any more than I have how England and France had actually protested the re-unification, saying it would make West dangerous again.

There would be wars to fight again; even if I hated the way they fought them now, I was at least learning something about them. West hadn't let me near anything even remotely related to war since the wall came down; I never did ask him why. There hadn't seemed much reason to, really. What could I do?

Being here in Switzerland has informed me of just what I could still do. Maybe I'm not a nation anymore; but I still have my history of being one of the best damned warrior nations that came out of Germania. And while I'll never like this modern era of killing as many bystanders as enemies, I could appreciate Switzerland's stance.

Hold your ground, let them start the fight and then they had to face you head on. Hell yeah, now _that_ is how a war is supposed to be! None of this running and hiding behind computer screens and punching buttons to launch missiles or dropping bombs on people you couldn't even see.

A gun would never replace a sword to me; but I had to work with what I had. And when war did come to West- didn't it always?- I'd be there showing him a few new tricks and some old ones with updates for modern warfare.

There was only one small problem with the current arrangement- at least on Switzerland's side. I didn't have any problem with the situation at all.

"Oh, hello Prussia; are you going to join my brother in training today?" Lichtenstein was every bit as cute as her brother was bad tempered. She's always smiling and loves to watch the training; though after a little accident involving a training patrol getting lost, I sometimes think she's watching just to make sure there weren't any more 'accidental invasions'.

Switzerland hadn't lived _that _one down for weeks. Damn but it had been funny to see! Still, if it meant she was hanging around more often, I didn't have any problem with it at all. I was warned not to get any ideas of going after her of course, but he kind of left that one up to a few possible interpretations. Besides, invading her vital regions wasn't nearly as much fun as going for Austria's had been; she only really had one and I wasn't interested in it.

Now _her_? That was another matter entirely.

"Not today, Lichti; I'm off to pay a visit to someone. Want me to bring you back a souvenir?" Her delighted little 'yes' barely has time to register before I'm ducking off at a run; another plus to this little rearrangement in living set up. Messing with Switzerland's sister (or trying to) meant getting pretty good at dodging his bullets.

So far he hasn't managed to hit me yet. I'm not entirely sure how seriously he's trying, but it's best not to take too many chances on his aim.

Austria still came by occasionally; sometimes intentionally, sometimes because he got lost (as usual) and somehow wound up here. I'm really not too sure which is the most frequent; he still hasn't even fessed up why he even got himself involved with me again. You'd think after nearly a year, he would have at least thought up a good lie.

But then this _is_ Austria. There weren't too many things he was good at beyond music and watching his budget. I'd have to stop by and bother him after today;

It's October 3rd again; West is waiting for me in front of Switzerland's house. He still isn't entirely happy with the arrangement or how it came about, but he has as much of a smile as he ever does as I drop into the seat beside him with a little crow of victory at what's sitting on the floorboard waiting for me.

Switzerland might have a cute sister but his people knew absolutely nothing about beer. I'd have to fix that soon. Who knows, maybe it'd get Swiss not-Miss to lighten up a little if he got a pint or ten in him.

"Are you certain you want to go?" There's a conflict of expressions on West's face as he asks. Happiness, I think, that I'm finally wanting to attend the Unity Day events- regret to know that well…it's never going to be an _entirely_ happy day for me. "We could always go to-" "We'll be going there afterward, West. Like I'm going to miss Oktoberfest." I let a familiar grin settle into place at that; it feels comfortable again. It had gotten to feel strange for awhile, any time I had offered it up before in the past decade or two. Like it had belonged on someone else's face.

Maybe it had and still does; I'm still 'no one' as far as the nations are concerned. The last Prussian mercenary in existence, that's me. But it was more of an identity than I'd had since October 3rd, 1990. I'd just have to sort out from there who I was now.

"Very well; the celebration will begin soon-" He starts up the car as I pick up a bottle and crack it open; since he was driving, I could indulge to my heart's content. Something I'd been looking forward to since my tenure at Switzerland's place began in earnest.

"Hey, West? Mind if we swing by Austria's place?" The car swerves a little bit at that; apparently he hadn't been expecting that particular request.

"Why do you want to go there?" His disapproval is plain; but where that would have probably dissuaded me a year ago, I simply wave it off now. The grin is back on my lips now, stretching wider than ever.

"I just have a little kidnapping to repay…" And he'll never see me coming; I bet he thought I'd wait at least a month since Lichti had just delivered that message yesterday.

I still don't know why Austria got involved, but I could at least show a _little_ gratitude, maybe. Taking a person to Oktoberfest and getting them completely drunk on the best damned beer in Europe sounded like an adequate sort of thank you to me.

Then he could get the joyous feeling of riding around in that out dated, herky-jerky car of his while nursing a hang over. It seemed a fair enough return trade.

West watches me a moment, then turns the car in the appropriate direction- for Austria's home, rather than straight to the festivities as I'd half expected him to. He's seeming a bit happier himself suddenly for some reason, actually going so far as to reach down to turn on the radio as we drive.

It wasn't a perfect life, but it was a _life_ at least. Just me, West and…well, I don't know if I'd call them friends, really, but Austria, Switzerland and Lichtenstein were there. It was something other than sitting around and waiting to fade like everything else about who I used to be had.

Maybe one day, I'd have a real name and land again. I would just have to hold on until it happened. Until then, there was helping West, training in Switzerland and harassing Austria to keep me occupied.

It wasn't much, but it was a moderately entertaining life for now. I just had to hope that somehow, the glory days would come again. I'd be ready for them when they did.

_~fin~_

Afterword: Since I'd gotten at least one email/PM from someone about this, figure I'll clear it up for one and all. ;) This particular incarnation of Prussia is not hanging out with Spain or France right now for a variety of reasons. He's still a bit sore at France after they protested Germany's reunification. As to Spain well…he was depressed. Depressed people don't often seek out even their really good friends to hang out with.

Not the most exciting or epic piece I ever wrote (not even close) but it was just a little niggling short story I felt like writing. Love or hate it, it's finished. Thanks for reading!


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